


Wrong to Miss Him

by Azkaabanter



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Bad dad Philza?, Big Brother Techno, Dad Philza, Dadza, DreamSMP - Freeform, Family, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It’s up to interpretation, References to Abuse, References to gore, Trauma, Twins Techno and Wilbur, Vilbur, Winged Philza, Winged tommyinnit, Wings, big brother wilbur, exile arc, sbi, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azkaabanter/pseuds/Azkaabanter
Summary: Phil couldn't help but see a bit of Wilbur in Tommy, and it terrified him to think that there was even the fraction of a possibility of his youngest son could follow the same path. He had so many regrets, and letting Wilbur leave home so soon was one of them.--Basically, Phil and Tommy talk about the effects that Wilbur's life (and death) had on them: most of them were negative.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 167





	Wrong to Miss Him

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! This didn't turn out exactly as I had planned, but I really wanted to upload it, so here you go! I hope you enjoy <3

The air in the tundra was always fresh; it constantly smelled of pine, with the distinct tinge of recognizable cold. There was no hint of soot that came from the machines in the Greater Dream SMP or L’Manburg: this land had been untouched by the dirty hands of the mechanical revolution, and was much better off without it. All that existed were small, simple villages, and the bitter cold. Well, it was the tundra: what else could one expect? 

Phil closed his eyes to protect them from that frozen breeze, the blonde hair which poked out from his blue and white bucket hat ruffling at the disruption. His rocking chair creaked as he propelled himself carefully back and forth on the weathered front porch of Techno’s cottage, with the sound of Tommy fucking around in the snow feet away meeting his ears. 

He imagined the sight he’d like to see when he opened his eyes to look at his son:

Tommy, a huge, mischievous grin lighting up his face, preparing a scarily large pile of snowballs for when Techno got back from his scouting mission. His hair ever a rat’s nest, and the feathers on his crimson and white wings faring no better. His netherite armor would be gleaming, (he never took it off unless he was in the walls of L’Manburg,) and he’d be cursing and yelling at any mob who dared wander too close.

“Phil! Philza- _Dad!”_ Tommy called, his voice filled with a scarily high amount of energy. Phil let out a breath through his nose, and mentally prepared himself for what he knew he’d see in reality when he opened his eyes.

“What’s up, mate?” He peeled his eyelids open as he replied, heart tightening in the same way it always did whenever he laid eyes on his youngest son.

His real Tommy was incredibly skinny, skin taking on a greyish tinge against the stark white of the surrounding snow, despite the peeling sunburn from his time in exile. His cheeks were sunken in, he walked with a limp due to a homemade prosthetic leg, and, well....

His wings were nothing more than short stubs sticking out of his back.

The grin he wore was almost maniacal as he held a snowball in a red, bony hand. “Do you think Techno would be pissed if I hit him with a snowball filled with rocks?” Phil rolled his eyes, a smile plastered on his face.

“I’d say he’d be pretty fuckin’ mad, Will.” He said with a chuckle. There was a sudden silence that threatened to suffocate the hybrid, the intensity scarily thick.

“I- what?” Tommy whispered. The smile melted off of his face, in that moment; the light in his eyes dissipated into a dull glow, and Phil scrambled to figure out what he’d said wrong. He got to his feet in confusion, inky feathers ruffling in anxiety as he stepped carefully down the staircase, mindful of the ice until his boot sank into the snow. “You called me Will, Dad.” The younger said as his father readied himself to speak.

Phil clamped his mouth closed, the arm that was midst reaching for his youngest pausing in its journey to stay suspended midair, then promptly dropping back to his side. The wind blew again, more harshly that time. It moved his heavy cape, the cold pricking any little bit of exposed skin he had.

“I-” He licked his lips as a filler, unsure what to say. Tommy’s shoulders drooped, his breath coming out in a shaky rattle. “It was an accident, Toms.” Phil replied weakly. He wrenched his eyes away from the intensity of his son’s, and instead looked to the clear, cloudless sky.

It would snow soon: he was sure of it.

“Do I look like him?” Tommy asked. Phil raised an eyebrow at the question, his stomach flipping in anxiety.

“Well, I mean… no.” He remarked, lacing his fingers together uncomfortably. Phil looked Tommy up and down, despite the way it made his chest ache. His youngest son would normally have fit the old trench coat that he wore, his height just shy of its original owner, but starvation and torture had reduced him to skin and bones: to the point where Wilbur’s singed coat hung off of him limply. “But you remind me of him, sometimes.” The silence once again wrapped its gentle grasp around father and son. Phil watched his breath puff up in front of his face rhythmically, his mind falling down into a pit of memories.

“Is it bad that that scares me?” Tommy whispered. Phil didn’t reply immediately, a rough swallow and a twitch of his wings being the only indication that he’d heard what Tommy’d said.

_“Is it bad that it scares me?” Phil spoke to Techno in hushed tones, the loud slamming of drawers from upstairs ringing through the house as a sweet, summer wind blew through an open window. Technoblade glanced up from the book he was reading, sunburned forearms shown off by rolled up sleeves. He looked unbothered, as he always did, but Phil could tell by the way his shoulders tensed and his foot tapped on the floor that he wasn’t keen on the idea of his twin brother taking Tommy to unknown lands to chase some far-fetched dream._

_“What, Wilbur leaving, or the fact that he’s taking Tommy with him?” He drawled, dogearing the page and uncrossing his legs so that both feet laid evenly on the floor. Phil’s eyes shot to the staircase at a particularly loud ‘thump,’ gaze unwavering as he spoke._

_“Both. I don’t like this.” He said. Techno yawned loudly._

_“Your baby bird is leaving the nest, dad. I thought you’d be elated.” Phil’s brows furrowed as his (technical) oldest spoke. He heard Techno get to his feet, and the telltale pop of his joints as he stretched. “Or perhaps you’re jealous that he’s choosing this over you?” Phil scoffed._

_“Yeah, or maybe I’m scared that two of my sons are up and leaving with no plan?” He turned to face Techno once again, a light grin on his face appearing when his son pushed a pair of horn-rimmed glasses up his nose._

_“How many times has Will threatened to do this in the past? I’m sure it’s no different.” Techno said, studying the creased spine of the book in his grasp._

_“He’s never taken Tommy with him, though.” Phil’s statement hung in the air: Wilbur seemed so sure that time. So sure, in fact, that he was willing to rope in his younger brother. And with Tommy, the person who looked up to him more than anybody else, by his side, there was no way that he’d admit defeat or give up._

_The house was filled with evidence of late summer: racks of herbs dried on every free inch of space, the window frame was dusted in a fine layer of pollen, and cicadas were beginning to chirp as the sun threatened to finally dip below the horizon._

_Phil didn’t want to think of his house being empty so suddenly. How would him and Techno cook enough food to use all of those spices? How would they manage the small herd of cows that Tommy had insisted they keep? What would he do without the soft melodies produced by Wilbur’s guitar, or the shrieking laughter that escaped Tommy’s mouth and drifted in the window whenever he figured out a new flight trick?_

_As if he could sense the turbulence in his father’s head, Techno took the few steps forward that it took to be in the older’s bubble._

_“Listen, I can’t see daddy’s boy Wilby being away from home for longer than a month, okay?” Techno consoled as Wilbur and Tommy’s voices drifted down the stairs. “They’ll be home before we know it-” he snorted. “-probably sooner than we’d like.” Phil let his shoulders and wings relax, willing the tension out of his body._

_Techno was right._

_Within the next hour Phil watched his two sons walk down the path, backpacks on and armed with diamond and iron. The determination on their faces, specifically Wilbur’s face, was absolutely palpable._

_He had a trenchcoat Phil insisted he bring along folded in the crook of his elbow._

_They’d be okay._

“I don’t think you have to be afraid of being like him, per say.” Phil said. A memory of what he’d seen years later flashed through his brain, the man in front of him unrecognizable from the son who’d left on that warm summer evening. Tommy scoffed, a shiver wracking its way through his frail body.

“Why the fuck not? He went mental.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Phil knew he’d never admit it, but he could see the pain that crossed the teenager’s face whenever he thought of his brother. Phil knew that Tommy had the worst memory of Wilbur.

Even if Phil himself had been the one to stab him through the chest.

“He wasn’t always insane.”

“Wasn’t he though?” Phil cocked his head to the side in curiosity: Tommy teased him often that the habit made him look even more bird-like. “He managed to convince me to leave home at fourteen with this, this _fairy story_ that we’d be able to start a country together. And even after we’d been shot down and we fought in battle after battle, he still had this _dream.”_ He chuckled humorlessly, thin hair falling into his eyes. _“I heard there was a special place, where men could go and emancipate, the tyranny. and brutality of their rulers.”_ he recalled. “What the hell was he on about with that? Before L’Manburg it was just the Watsons in our cottage. We were happy- where the fuck did he get the idea of tyrannical and brutal rulers?” Tommy’s voice cracked, and Phil brought him in for a gentle hug, mindful of his healing wounds. “He was crazy long before Schlatt.”

“Oh, Tommy-”

“I let him make me crazy, too.” He continued. “Even after he chose L’Manburg over me over and over, I still stuck by him because we had this dream. And now he’s gone, and he’s driven me so crazy that even after I’ve lost everything, I still care more about my country than I care about myself.” Phil’s heart was beating out of his chest as Tommy spoke; the pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together. The younger hybrid sniffled, his shoulders arched downwards so that he could bury his face into his father’s shoulder.

“I think the reason you want to save L’Manburg, and why I want to destroy it so badly are the same.” Phil said. “L’Manburg is the reason we lost him.” He gently pet the back of Tommy’s shoulders.

“If you destroy my country, I’m going down with it.” Tommy’s words made the blood in the older hybrid’s veins turn to ice. “It’s all I have left of him. I don’t care if I’m crazy. Maybe the craziness is one other piece of him I earned the right to keep.” Phil’s hand stilled in its’ comforting.

“When you say shit like that, I can see the mark he left on you.” Tommy’s hands buried themselves into his father’s cloak, the blunt tips of his fingers pressing into his back. “You’re not crazy. You’re a child, Toms. And you’ve been though so much more than you deserve.” Phil said gently, trying to ignore the pressure building behind his eyes at the display of pain he was bearing witness to.

“Well what am I supposed to think?” He wept. “He’s, he _was,_ my brother. He put bandages on my wounds, kicked people’s asses if they hurt me…” Phil moved his hand from Tommy’s back to his hair, combing through the tangles. “He was the last person I let preen my wings. And his fucking ghost watched as Dream cut them off.” Phil sucked in a breath of sharply cold air that stung his throat. 

He knew that Dream was the one who cut off his son’s wings, and every day he wished that he could exact his revenge. He remembered the way Wilbur had been so excited when his little brother’s wings started erupting from his back. He’d been there for Tommy every minute of the painful process, and to know that even in death, he was part of his brother’s wind process was… jarring, at the least.

He missed that proud smile.

He missed that determination.

He missed the light in his eyes, and wished more than anything that he could forget the void he’d had to see when Wilbur begged for his father to stab him through the heart.

“Is it wrong that we miss him?” Phil whispered, his voice cracking a bit with emotion. Tommy stilled and stepped away, probably in surprise of his father showing emotion like that.

Phil sank to his knees in front of his youngest son, face splotchy with tears running freely down red skin.

He looked up at Tommy. He looked into those crystal blue eyes and washed his gaze over tousled blonde hair. They looked nothing alike, but Tommy had that fire in him. The fire that had driven Will to insanity. “Why can’t I move on?” He asked into the snow. “Every time I look at you, I see him, Toms. I don’t want to lose you the way I lost Wilbur. And I was so, _so,_ close.” 

“Dad…” Tommy started. Phil felt the snow melt into the fabric of his pants, the cold chaining him into reality. He knew he shouldn’t be telling Tommy about the shit that had been swirling in his brain, but it just came out.

“I love you, Tommy. So much. I should never have let you go with him… I should’ve written more to make sure everything was alright, and I shouldn’t have believed Wilbur when he insisted that nothing was wrong.” Tommy dropped to his knees, the coat around him pooling on the ground. Phil took off his cloak and wrapped it around the boy’s shoulders gently. “The only reason I came at all was because Techno insisted. I… I was scared of what I would see when I saw you two again. I thought that maybe if I were to avoid it, it would disappear.” He laughed humorlessly. “After all these years, I should’ve known better.”

“We both fucked up listening to him.” Tommy’s voice was raw. Clouds began to build on the horizon. “I don’t think that makes it wrong to miss him, though.” Phil hummed in agreement, allowing the conclusion to hang in the air as his tears slowed to a stop. “If I had never gone with Will, I’d never have met Tubbo, though. Or Niki, or Jack- actually no. Fuck Jack.” Phil barked out a short laugh. “It’s Dream’s fault my wings and leg are gone, not Wilbur’s. And you know, sometimes I like to think of all of the shit OUR Wilbur would do to him if he were still alive. It gives me a bit of comfort.” 

“That was the most serious I think I’ve ever heard you be.” He said after a moment. Tommy scoffed, reaching up the back of his hand to wipe his nose.

“Don’t get used to that sappy shit.” He said. Phil leaned forward to wrap his youngest in a tight, grounding hug.

“I’d never do such a thing.” Phil chuckled, pulling back. He clambered to his feet and dusted the snow from his clothes, then reached out a hand to help Tommy to his feet. The blonde hybrid grumbled that he didn’t need help, but accepted it just the same. “Alright, let’s get inside before Techno gets home and bullies us for freezing ourselves.” Tommy smiled at him tiredly in agreement.

Phil didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at Tommy without his heart feeling like it was being torn, but… that was okay. Wilbur wasn’t always who he turned into in L’Manburg, and as Tommy bragged about his ability to climb the stairs to the porch without slipping on the ice, Phil decided that he’d see the old Wilbur in Tommy instead of the one he’d killed.

It wasn’t wrong to miss that Wilbur.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! For more MCYT fic content and content in general, follow me on twitter @azkaabanter ! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are always welcome


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